


Through the Looking Glass

by BearlyWriting



Series: RominWeek2021 [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Cam Show, Collars, Day 3: Collars, Day 3: Sex Work, Dildos, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Daddy Kink, Romin Week 2021, Sex Work, Sex Worker AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 05:27:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30084174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyWriting/pseuds/BearlyWriting
Summary: ‘The collar is thick enough to cover the majority of Nightwing’s throat, creamy slivers of skin peaking out above and below the leather. The matte black skull - a perfect replica of Roman’s mask - that sits smack in the middle, is framed by the curve of Nightwing’s collarbones, resting right over the bulge of his Adam’s apple. When Nightwing swallows, it bobs with the movement, dipping into the hollow of his throat.’For RomanRobin Week prompts: collars and sex worker au.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Roman Sionis, kind of - Relationship
Series: RominWeek2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2211252
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21
Collections: Romin Week 2021





	Through the Looking Glass

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy :)

Roman settles into the wide leather chair behind his desk and opens up his laptop. It’s 9pm on a Friday. Time for his weekly ritual.

Roman isn’t the sort of person to deny himself pleasures. And the website he logs into is one of his preferred pastimes. Ever since he’d discovered the cam site, he’s been a regular visitor. From the first time he’d watched one of this particular cammer’s shows, he’d known he wouldn’t be missing even one.

His last meeting had run over a little, so by the time he logs on, the guy is already on screen. The show hasn’t started yet, though. Thank god. Because Roman has something special planned for this one.

The cammer is as beautiful as ever. Lean but muscular - a gymnast’s body. Gorgeous golden skin. The ripple of muscle beneath whenever he shifts. As always, his eyes are covered with a dark blue mask, soft silk in delicious contrast to his skin. Even with the mask, Roman can see that his eyes are a bright blue, lashes a dark fringe.

He isn’t wearing a shirt and Roman’s eyes are drawn, as always, to the slender length of his neck, the peak of his collar bones, then further down, to those dusky pink nipples. Later, they’ll be puffy from his ministrations, but they aren’t quite there yet.

Nightwing smiles, teeth bright, eyes glinting. “Hello my lovelies,” he says, as always. “It’s so good to see you all again. And for anyone new,” a wink, “welcome to the show.”

Anticipation settles in Roman’s gut. He _always_ enjoys these shows but tonight is going to be a proper treat. Roman had made sure of it.

Sure enough: “Tonight is going to be a little bit special,” Nightwing says, with another of those beaming smiles. “I got a present from one of my lovely regulars.”

He turns, showing them his bare back, a tantalizing glimpse of the swell of his ass where it peaks above his panties. Roman practically salivates at just that strip of skin. It’s stupid, because Roman could go out and fuck whoever he wants, whenever he wants, but there’s something special about this guy.

Roman is going to find out exactly who it is and pay them a visit one day. In the meantime, he’s content to watch.

“Thank you _masked daddy_ ,” Nightwing says, voice low and sultry, looking at the camera like he’s looking directly at Roman. And Roman is so fucking glad he’d done this. This is going to be perfect.

It had taken time to build up to this, after all. Time and money. Not that it was really a hardship to watch Nightwing’s show on the regular, or to tip well enough to get himself noticed. Although, he’d had to pull out all the stops to put himself above some of the kid’s other regulars.

But he’d done it. He’d sat here with his dick in his hand and his fingers in his wallet enough times that he was confident Nightwing wouldn’t just throw his present in the trash the moment he opened it.

“I’ve already opened it,” Nightwing is saying, “but it was wrapped so prettily. Here, I think I saved some of the wrapping.”

He stands, then, and treats the whole room to a nice view of his panties and the swell of his ass filling out the thin cotton. The chat log is going wild. Roman doesn’t usually pay much attention to it - the last thing he wants to acknowledge whilst he’s getting his rocks off is that hundreds of other lonely perverts are doing the same thing. But sometimes it’s unavoidable.

_HornyBoi93: Is it a dildo?_

_Roxxxy123: Did you get my present big boy?_

Nightwing turns back to the screen with a sheet of wrapping paper in his hands. It’s so neat that Roman is honestly a little surprised - did Nightwing surgically open it? Roman is picky about that sort of shit and he doesn’t think even he could open it so neatly.

“It’s not a dildo,” Nightwing says, with one of his cute little chuckles, “although I do have a little treat for you later.”

He winks.

“But you’re not here for the wrapping paper are you? You guys want to see the actual present.”

Yes, Roman does want to see the actual present. Who gives a fuck about the wrapping paper? Roman’s assistant had picked it and, honestly, he couldn’t give a shit. Who carefully keeps wrapping paper and actually shows it off?

Roman wants to see his present. He wants to see Nightwing use it.

Luckily, Nightwing doesn’t waste any more time before retrieving the present, offering it to the camera with a sly grin.

The collar looks just as beautiful as Roman had imagined. The material is exactly the same dark blue shade as the mask pressed over Nightwing’s eyes. Even through the screen, the leather looks soft and supple. When Nightwing slides it through his fingers, the heavy buckle clinks, flashing in the light.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” Nightwing asks, casting a flirty glance at the camera. “I can’t wait to put it on.”

If Roman were there, there wouldn’t be any of this teasing bullshit. That collar would already be wrapped around Nightwing’s throat, tight enough to impede his breathing a little, just enough to have him gasping. And he wouldn’t be taking it off at the end of this session, either. He’d wear it constantly, an ever-present reminder of Roman’s ownership.

But like this, with however many miles and a computer screen between them, Roman has to make do with what he can get. And it’s not a bad show, anyway. He certainly appreciates the way Nightwing drags the leather across his tongue, holding it lightly between his teeth for a moment before dropping it back into his palms.

Still, that’s not what he wants Nightwing to do with his gift. He wants to see him wear it.

 _Put it on_ , Roman types into the chat. He’s gotten much better at typing one-handed, but he doesn’t need to resort to that yet.

Nightwing tilts his head, clearly taking a moment to glance at the chat. He grins. Roman is always struck by how white his teeth are. How straight they are. How perfect everything about Nightwing is.

“So impatient, daddy,” he drawls, and, as always, Roman’s cock stirs at the monicker. So he likes the idea of the kid calling him daddy, sue him. There’s plenty of other perverts out there with worse kinks.

“Don’t worry. Your gift is too pretty not to wear.”

With that, Nightwing finally lifts the collar to his throat. For a moment, Roman can’t really make out what he’s doing, just the bulge of his biceps as he fumbles at his neck. Then his hands drop away and Roman gets a perfect view of the collar he’d bought, thick and beautiful against the smooth skin of the kid’s throat. 

A sharp jolt of arousal spears through Roman. God, it’s perfect. It suits him so well, and Roman got it so right - of course he did. The collar is thick enough to cover the majority of Nightwing’s throat, creamy slivers of skin peaking out above and below the leather. The matte black skull - a perfect replica of Roman’s mask - that sits smack in the middle, is framed by the curve of Nightwing’s collarbones, resting right over the bulge of his Adam’s apple. When Nightwing swallows, it bobs with the movement, dipping into the hollow of his throat.

Roman imagines closing teeth over the thick material. Imagines sliding his fingers between the collar and skin, using the leverage to tug the kid around. He could drag Nightwing forward with it. Press him against his groin. He could hang onto it as he rides Nightwing’s ass, or his face. Could pull Nightwing up into a painful arch as he pins his hips beneath him. He could…

Well, he can’t actually do any of that. Not yet. But he appreciates the visuals.

Some day. Hopefully soon.

The chat is pinging with everyone’s appreciation. And why shouldn’t they appreciate it? The collar looks beautiful and the skull - Roman’s mark, Roman’s _claim_ \- is ambiguous enough to appeal to the masses. Roman adds his own appreciation, dropping a tip into the chat.

The ca-chink sound of money being dropped plays over the computer speakers. Nightwing checks the chat, then grins again.

“I’m so glad you like it, daddy. Thank you for the tip. And the present.” 

Then he blows a kiss at the screen. Something warm blooms in Roman’s chest, knowing that it’s just for him.

Christ, when did he get so sappy?

“What are you guys thinking today? You want to jerk me around a little? Want to choke me? Is that why you sent me this little present masked daddy?”

Yes. That’s exactly what Roman wants. He wants to tighten that collar until Nightwing is choking, that pretty little mouth gaping as he gasps for air, wet and hot and open. He wants to force his cock straight down Nightwing’s throat. Wants to drive himself in again and again until Nightwing’s bright blue eyes are rolling back in his skull. Until he’s wavering on the edge of passing out.

Jesus. The kid hasn’t even started, and already Roman is hard in his pants, his prick straining against the zipper. He fumbles at his fly until he can pull himself free. His cock twitches the moment he touches it and arousal pools low in his gut. He’s so fucking ready for this.

“You want to choke me on your cock?”

 _Fuck_.

The dildo Nightwing pulls out is an old favourite. Roman has seen him use it plenty of times, but it never gets old. It’s big, but certainly not the biggest. Actually, it’s not far off Roman’s size. That’s probably why it’s one of Roman’s favourite toys. It’s easy to imagine himself in its place.

And he knows that the thing vibrates, if you hit the switch at its base. Roman likes that too.

Nightwing gives the head a teasing little lick, angling himself so that he’s looking up at the camera through thick lashes. 

“I want you to,” Nightwing purrs, lapping at the silicone like it’s a damn ice cream. “Please, daddy. Please choke me.”

Roman shivers. He tightens his fingers around his cock, but doesn’t start stroking. If he gives himself the stimulation now, he’ll lose it embarrassingly quickly. And the last thing he wants to do is blow his load already. The show has barely even started.

On screen, Nightwing drags the dildo down over his throat, sliding it across the collar. Roman imagines thrusting his own cock against that slender neck. Imagines the feel of soft leather against his skin.

The dildo keeps going, dipping down into the channel between Nightwing’s sculpted pecs. It traces across his nipples, circling each rosy bud. Nightwing moans, softly, and Roman shivers again, feeling his cock throb.

“Daddy,” Nightwing half-moans. “Please.”

Then he pushes the dildo onto the desk, sticking it to the wood, standing up proudly right in front of the camera. One hand stays wrapped around the base. The other slides up to his throat, fingers slipping beneath the material of the collar and tugging. The momentum bows Nightwing forward. 

He glances up even as he folds over. His eyebrows are bent into a needy curve. His mouth is already parted, wet and soft-looking. His eyes glitter beneath the mask.

It’s designed for his audience to imagine themselves tugging at the collar, Roman knows. They’re clearly supposed to see themselves in the lucky dildo’s place.

It’s working.

If he could just get his hands on that band of leather… The filthy things he would do.

Nightwing makes a soft sound, before fitting his mouth over the head of the dildo. He tugs on his collar again, obviously enough that Roman can see the movement even with the way he’s bent over, and his head sinks lower. Roman watches the way his mouth stretches wide, the way the pink silicone disappears past those taut lips.

There’s a quiet, gagging sound. Roman’s cock jumps. His pulse is throbbing beneath his jaw, thick and sticky. The air feels heavy and hot.

He’s never found anyone else who can turn him on like this. He’s never been so aroused without even being touched before.

When Nightwing pulls back, he brings the dildo with him. The new angle shows off the expanse of his chest, flushed and already glittering with sweat. It reveals the length of his throat, too. The way the leather of the collar bulges a little as Nightwing forces the dildo into his throat again and again.

He works himself over the dildo, making wet, eager noises, whilst Roman clutches at the base of his cock, and feels arousal throb in his gut. 

It feels like too short a time, though, when Nightwing finally pulls the dildo free. Spit glistens on the fake flesh. Nightwing’s lips are slick, too, and already slightly swollen. They would look so beautiful with Roman’s cock pressed against them. 

Nightwing glances at the chat again. There’s plenty of activity in there. Roman tries not to pay it too much attention, but there are certainly some interesting suggestions. Someone named _PeepingT0mmy_ had suggested taking two at once.

Roman doesn’t like to share. But he thinks he’d like to see that.

There are plenty of people begging Nightwing to put it in his ass instead. Roman would like to see that, too.

It seems that’s Nightwing’s plan, anyway, because he says, “Oh yes, please. Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.”

Roman so badly wants to reach through the computer screen and get his hands on flesh. Push him down. Get him underneath him. Plunge his cock into that tight little hole and feel it hot and close around him. He wants to hear him beg just for Roman, rather than the whole audience Roman knows is watching.

Instead, he has to sit there with his dick in his hand, watching as Nightwing pushes his chair back until his whole body is visible. He’s still wearing the panties - also a rich blue, a darker patch spreading across the bulge evident in the material. As Roman watches, Nightwing tugs them to the side enough to reveal one smooth ball and the straining flesh of his cock. The tip is still caught up in the cotton, a delicious tease.

Then Nightwing tugs on the panties again and the tip finally springs free. It’s as pretty as the rest of him, thick and flushed, a pearly drop of precum already beading at the head.

Has he already played with himself? Roman wouldn’t be surprised if he had. If he’d been sitting in front of that laptop just a few minutes before the show started, with those slender fingers buried in his ass.

Roman’s cock jerks in his grip, as if trying to remind him that it exists. Like Roman could ever forget.

“Fuck me daddy. I want your cock in me so bad.”

He lifts one leg, slinging it over the arm of the computer chair, opening himself up to the camera. Like this, Roman can see the furled muscle of his hole, pink and already glistening with lube. 

“I’m ready,” Nightwing moans, tossing his head back to expose the long line of his throat. The skull at his Adam’s apple bobs. With one hand, he pulls the dildo close, pressing it against his hole. “I’ve been a good boy. _Please_.”

He hasn’t been a good boy, Roman thinks. He’s been a very, very bad boy, exposing himself like this, for an audience of degenerates. What would his real daddy think, Roman wonders, if he knew what his son was doing right now? If he knew that Roman was watching him prepare to fuck himself open and imagining himself in the dildo’s place.

Nightwing rubs the head of the dildo over his hole again and again, moaning low in his throat, teasing himself with just the tip. Roman’s heart jackhammers in his chest. He doesn’t want to stroke himself until Nightwing is actually fucking the dildo, but his cock is aching so badly he’s worried he might shoot off without even really touching himself.

Then, in one swift movement, Nightwing sinks the dildo in to the hilt.

Roman groans in time with the rough, aroused sound Nightwing lets out. Finally, he lets his hand move, tugging harshly at his throbbing cock. It’s both a relief and almost overwhelming. Pleasure lances through his whole body. His gut feels molten.

Nightwing drags the dildo out to the tip. Even through the screen, Roman can see him trembling. The leg that’s spread wide twitches and jerks as he sinks the dildo back in. His chest heaves. Roman feels his own breath coming heavy. His cock strains in his grip.

“Do you think I could come on your cock, daddy?” Nightwing asks, breathless. Roman watches his stomach flex. Stares at the slick flesh of his prick, standing proud against his belly. “Won’t even touch myself. Don’t need to.”

Roman’s own stomach tightens at that. He’s so beautiful. Roman wants to see that so badly. To see that lovely cock shoot off without him even touching it, just a thick dick lodged up his ass. Roman’s thick dick, if possible.

One day.

Nightwing shifts. Clever fingers find the switch and Roman can hear the vibration as it hums to life. Then he readjusts himself, pressing the dildo down onto the chair and hovering over it, thick thighs flexing as he holds his weight, before carefully sinking back down. 

He gasps. Roman can see the way his nipples pebble. His whole body trembles as he pulls back up enough to rub the tip over his hole again before sliding back all the way until he’s fully sitting in the seat.

Roman grunts. His balls draw up tight against his body and he has to squeeze his fingers hard around the base of his cock to stave off the orgasm that tingles up his spine. He doesn’t want to come yet. Not before Nightwing does.

Not that Roman thinks that will take much longer. Precum is pulsing out of the tip of his dick, streaming down the shaft in a pearly trickle. Nightwing slams himself onto the dildo again and stiffens. His back arches. One hand flies to his throat and closes over the collar, tugging harshly, drawing it tight around his neck. His mouth gapes around a strangled sound. His other hand clenches so hard around the arm of the chair that his knuckles are white.

Roman gives up on trying to hold his orgasm off. His heart crashes against his ribs. His own slick sounds fill the room as he strips his cock. His eyes flicker between the collar - thick leather drawn taut beneath Nightwing’s fingers - and the boy’s cock, twitching and straining against his belly. Roman can see it throb. Then Nightwing is orgasming, thick semen shooting out across his stomach and the leather of the chair between his legs.

Roman’s own orgasm crashes through him like a tsunami. He jerks, working at his straining cock as he spills across his hand. Pleasure surges through every nerve in his body. His pulse thunders in his ears. And the whole time, he can’t tear his eyes away from the dark seam of Nightwing’s mouth, the blush of his chest and the wet tip of his cock. The way his ass is stretched wide around the dildo lodged up inside him.

For a moment, Nightwing just breathes, his chest rising and falling almost in tandem with Roman’s own heavy breaths. Then he tugs the dildo out of his body and switches the vibration off. He lifts his head, eyes automatically flickering to the chat, and smiles.

Roman sits up too. Wipes his hand off on the material of his trousers, and joins the enthusiastic support that’s currently pouring into the chat.

 _Good boy_ , Roman types, wishing he were saying it in person. Wishing Nightwing was currently kneeling at his feet, looking up at him through thick lashes. _You did so well for daddy_.

“That was amazing,” Nightwing says, in a breathy voice. “You were all so good for me today. As always I really appreciate your support.”

He unbuckles the collar in one smooth movement and Roman tries to ignore the stab of disappointment in his chest. There’s no way he can expect Nightwing to wear it past the scene. Not now. When he finally gets his hands on him, Nightwing will be wearing that collar at every moment. He’ll be wearing plenty of Roman’s marks - bruises and hickeys and collars and maybe something a bit more...permanent. But Roman’s plans aren’t quite ready for that yet. So for now, he has to suck up his disappointment and accept that this is all he’s going to get.

“And a special big thank you to masked daddy. I really enjoyed playing with your gift.”

Nightwing winks, smiling just for Roman, and you know what? This isn’t perfect, but Roman can admit that this is good. Until he can put his plan in motion, Roman can live with this.

Especially if Nightwing decides to wear the collar again.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr at [bearly-writing](https://bearly-writing.tumblr.com/) if you fancy dropping by for a chat!


End file.
